Something About Emmaline (12 page)

“I say, it is a shame Her Grace keeps the gel employed,” Lady Neeley said. “I wrote to the duchess to inform her of her companion’s scandalous conduct and she wrote me back and told me to mind my own business.” She sniffed with indignation. “Mind my own business! Have you ever heard such a thing? The duchess is lucky the baggage hasn’t robbed her blind.”

Heads shook in dismay. A few others added what they had heard of the duchess’s infamous companion, but Alex had stopped listening to their indignant chatter.

Well, now he had an answer to one question. Who Emmaline was.

She was this Miss Doyle, this parmiel-playing, reckless, meddling companion of the Duchess of Cheverton. The duchess most likely had finally grown tired of her employee’s peccadilloes and dismissed her. And now this infamous chit was masquerading as his wife.

Alex ground his teeth, considering all the ways he was going to toss her into the streets. Damn Lady Lilith and Hubert, damn the ensuing gossip. He was done being gulled and certainly wasn’t going to be clucked over by the gossips of the
ton
when her true identity came to light.

But even as he fumed and railed against the fates that had brought her conniving ways to his door, he glanced over at her.

He never should have looked.

For at that moment, she glanced up at him, and the look in her eyes, the fear and desperation there, stripped bare his pride, tore away his anger.

By God, she was terrified.

As she should be, he tried to tell himself with every bit of righteous offense he could muster. But that sentiment was hard to hold on to when he realized how pompous, how haughty the self-righteous jury assembled around her sounded.

“Why, I rarely lose at parmiel,” Sir Francis was saying, “and that gel took me for twenty pounds. Ruthless at cards, she was. Without a bit of conscience.”

Twenty pounds, Alex had to guess, was what Sir Francis probably lost every night at cards, so why was he so indignant? Was it because it was to someone he considered beneath him?

“Well, if I were ever to meet with this Miss Doyle,” Lady Oxley declared, “I wouldn’t offer her a moment of charity. I’d send her packing right back to her employer. I have always made it a rule never to offer aid to strangers and those less deserving.” She sent a pointed glance toward Mrs. Mabberly and her daughter.

“Yes, quite so,” Lord Templeton chimed in, coming to
stand by the pair of ladies. “Charity is best left to those whose heart is capable of placing the needs of others well above their own. Mrs. Mabberly and her daughter’s attention to the poor widows and orphans of town make them such a delightful oddity.”

“An oddity for sure,” Lady Oxley declared. “Throwing good money after bad, if you ask me.”

Her son swaggered to the forefront. “Never worry, Mother. There’ll be none of that charitable nonsense from Miss Mabberly once we are wed.”

Mother and daughter exchanged brief glances. Obviously this was news to them.

Oxley gave his intended another well-intentioned shake. “You won’t see any of our blunt going into those foolhardy baskets for widows and orphans. No more of those soirees to aid education. Can’t tolerate educated women. Makes them coarse.”

Apparently, Oxley wasn’t opposed to marrying one if she came with a tidy dowry.

“But I—” Miss Mabberly began to say, but was cut off by a sharp retort from her father.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Mr. Mabberly told the earl. “Never been all that comfortable with this Ladies’ Aid Society myself.” He turned such a hard look toward his wife and daughter, Alex suspected it could have stopped the French rabble from storming the Bastille.

No, if anything, Alex felt an uncharacteristic pang for Miss Mabberly. Yet why should he care if the young lady would have to foreswear her own interests for that of her husband’s? That was how it ought to be.

Wasn’t it?

But another glance at the misery written across the girl’s
youthful features chided him in ways he’d never considered.

“I will strive to be the perfect wife,” Miss Mabberly was saying as if she were repeating a hard-earned lesson.

“Yes, yes, of course you will try,” Lady Oxley told her. “I’ve made it no secret that I am not pleased with this union, but my son tells me it is his sincere wish to wed you, and thus I must respect his decision.” There wasn’t anyone in the room who didn’t understand what the soon-to-be dowager was saying. Respect her son’s decision, yes, she could own to that. Make her new daughter-in-law welcome? Well, that was another matter. “I am sure that under my careful and diligent guidance,” she said, “you may yet make a tolerable wife for him.”

Such poisonous encouragement only served to make the poor chit pale even further. Alex couldn’t help thinking the girl would be better off married to a spendthrift like Jack, or living her life as a lowly spinster.

Luckily for Miss Mabberly, one of the other matrons launched into a long complaint about her ill-bred daughter-in-law, drawing the attention away from her. The girl made a brief excuse to her mother, then fled the room. As she brushed past him, Alex could see the tears brimming in her eyes.

Oh, demmit,
he cursed silently. He had more problems than he knew what to do with, without adding some Bath miss’s tears to his burdens. He wasn’t responsible for Miss Mabberly’s fate. Yet as the minutes ticked by and she didn’t return, he wondered if someone shouldn’t go see to her. He certainly couldn’t go—more scandal was the last thing he needed. But he knew someone who could.

He turned a pleading glance at Emmaline and found that she too was watching the door.

“Can I…?” she whispered.

He nodded and Emmaline squeezed his arm, then wove her way gracefully through the room and slipped out the door.

There, Alex thought. He no longer had to worry about the situation. Emmaline was a woman. She could tend to the girl’s problems.

The conversations drifted through the room, covering the usual topics of gossip favored by the
ton
: upcoming marriages, fashions, horse races, the latest scandals.

He glanced at the clock on the mantel and couldn’t imagine what was taking Emmaline so long. Couldn’t she just offer the girl some plaudits and be done with it? Really, she seemed to have a talent for meddling.

Then he recalled what Lady Jarvis had said about Emmaline, or rather, Miss Doyle.

She quite ruined my niece with her meddling
.

He closed his eyes and nearly groaned. What had he been thinking, sending Emmaline after an impressionable young lady? One ripe for “meddling.”

Egads, she’d have Miss Mabberly throwing off her parents’ authority, calling off her marriage—not that he didn’t disagree with that notion, but, well, it just wasn’t done—not to mention that Miss Mabberly’s defection would have Oxley and his mother cross as crabs, as well as put them in dire financial circumstances.

Knowing Lady Oxley, she’d blame Alex for the entire sordid affair, and prod her nitwit son into calling him out.

“I should see to my wife,” he said, making a hasty exit
from the room. Once out of eyesight, he tore down the hall, hoping to avert the sort of disaster that only Emmaline could orchestrate.

Then the sound of weeping brought him up short. Usually a woman’s crying was enough to send him fleeing in the opposite direction, but then he heard Emmaline’s dulcet voice and his curiosity outweighed his reluctance.

He moved quietly up to the door and took a tentative peek inside. There stood Emmaline in the middle of a private parlor with Miss Mabberly. If she had been pale and shaken by the arrival of the Neeleys, apparently meddling was restorative, for she was once again the fiery, formidable woman he knew.

“You mustn’t let her see you cry.” Emmaline handed the girl a handkerchief. “Don’t give Lady Oxley any further cause for comment.”

“I know, I know,” the girl said through a spate of sniffles and hiccups. She swiped at her tear-stained cheeks and watery eyes. “But I don’t see how I can go through with this. Lord Oxley is…is…awful.”

“I’d have to agree with you there,” Emmaline conceded.

Miss Mabberly sniffed a few more times. “He’s nothing like Lord Sedgwick.”

A twinge of guilt rifled down Alex’s spine again. He wanted to tell the girl he wasn’t some bloody paragon of matrimonial bliss.

I’m more like your betrothed than I care to admit
.

There were more tears from Miss Mabberly, and Emmaline put a steady arm around the girl’s shoulders.

“Oh, Lady Sedgwick, how will I be able to bear it—being married to that awful man?”

Emmaline bit her lip—she certainly wasn’t disagreeing
with the gel, but neither was she agreeing with the distraught bride-to-be. Good, she wasn’t meddling.

Still, Alex found himself thinking, would it really hurt all that much if Emmaline
was
to talk Miss Mabberly out of her wedding?

“I don’t want to marry him, I never did,” the girl declared.

“Then why are you?” Emmaline asked.

“Father said I must or he wouldn’t let Mother continue her charitable works.”

“That’s terrible,” Emmaline said.

Alex was of the same mind. Someone should say something to Mabberly, rattle the old
cit
into seeing what a wretched life he was consigning his only child to.

Call out Mabberly? What was becoming of him? He drew back and shook his head. What did he care if Miss Mabberly was being forced to marry Oxley? It would never have mattered to him a few days ago.

That is, before Emmaline had entered his life.

No, that did it. He needed no further evidence that it was time to be rid of her. Before she wreaked any more havoc on his life. A few more days and he’d be as interfering as Grandmère, or worse, Emmaline.

“Your father must have some good reason for wanting to see you wed,” Emmaline was saying. “Surely he only wants to secure your future.”

Miss Mabberly shook his head. “Oh, it has nothing to do with securing my future.”

“So why would he want you to marry Lord Oxley?”

That wasn’t a difficult question, Alex mused. What
cit
didn’t want his daughter married into the
ton
?

Miss Mabberly let out an aggrieved huff. “There is a tar
iff repeal being debated in the House of Lords and Father needs support for it. Oxley agreed to help him, but for a price.” The girl sniffed and wiped at her tears. “Father wouldn’t stand for that. Wasn’t going to give gold to someone he couldn’t trust. Instead he figured I would be good collateral. If Oxley made me his bride, his support would be guaranteed, since what helps raise father’s coffers will only help Oxley, since I am Father’s only child and heir.”

“Some way to treat one’s child,” he thought he heard Emmaline mutter. But she covered herself by saying, “Perhaps it could all come to some good.”

“I don’t see how,” the girl complained bitterly.

Alex agreed with Miss Mabberly. He didn’t see how the match would be of any benefit to the girl—what with Lady Oxley as her mother-in-law and her oafish son as bridegroom.

“Perhaps you will be able to effect some change in the earl,” Emmaline suggested. “I’ve seen it many times, wherein wives have been able to gently guide their husbands toward a more mutual understanding.”

Or nag them into an early grave,
Alex wanted to add.

“I don’t know,” Miss Mabberly said.

Emmaline rushed in. “The only person who can change that man is you. Besides, he already holds some regard for you—”

“For my dowry, you mean.”

“That may be, but it is up to you to foster some deeper regard within him. If Lord Oxley falls in love with you, you’ll find him quite happily carrying baskets for the widows and orphans.”

Miss Mabberly laughed. Whether it was from the un
likely idea of Oxley fostering an emotion resembling love for anyone other than himself, or the impossible notion of him visiting the poor, Alex didn’t know. But one thing was for certain, Emmaline was easing the girl’s immediate fears.

“Carry poor baskets, indeed,” Miss Mabberly scoffed. “Now, your Lord Sedgwick, perhaps—but not Lord Oxley. The earl will never hold such a rare regard for me.” The girl reached out and touched Emmaline on the forearm. “You are a lucky woman, Lady Sedgwick, for you were allowed to marry for love.”

Emmaline winced. It was obvious to Alex that she was no more comfortable with the sham of their besotted union than he was. “Every marriage has its own ups and downs,” she told her. “Don’t share this with anyone, but earlier this evening, Sedgwick and I were having the most awful row over something quite trivial.”

That you are impersonating my wife
? He would have liked to point out that the matter was hardly trivial, but this was neither the time nor the place.

“You are teasing me, Lady Sedgwick,” she said. “I can’t imagine the baron ever raising his voice to you. He seems so…so…”

“Dull?” Emmaline offered.

Both of them laughed, much to Alex’s chagrin. Dull? Emmaline thought him dull?

He would like to remind her that earlier she’d seemed quite enthralled with his company.

“So you see there is a perfect example of what I was saying earlier: Lord Sedgwick wasn’t always the dashing and besotted fellow you might think he is—it was my influence,
my guidance that helped him become the man he is today. If it hadn’t been for my help, I fear he would have remained quite tiresome the rest of his life.”

Alex felt his spine bristle. Her influence, indeed! He’d have her know that in some circles he was regarded as quite fast company.

On occasion. When the situation necessitated such behavior.

Egads,
he realized,
I am dull
. A regular curmudgeon of boredom.

And always had been.

In truth, conjuring up Emmaline was the only imaginative thing he’d ever done—and he was deliberately ignoring the fact that she’d been Jack’s idea to begin with.

And the other thing he certainly didn’t want to acknowledge was that since her arrival at Hanover Square, her literal, living and breathing arrival, his life had been anything but ordinary.